Stay
by bonniebonbon
Summary: "His voice cracked as he tried to hold on to his only hope, as he tried to grab on to the sleeve of the last and only man who could save him."/Collection of 400-word unrelated drabbles about Godric and Salazar.
1. Stay

"Stay."

His voice cracked as he tried to hold on to his only hope, as he tried to grab on to the sleeve of the last and only man who could save him.

"Please," the hopeless man added, his voice desperate. For as soon as Godric grabbed Salazar's long, green cloak, the cunning snake had scowled and pushed his hand away.

"I am sorry," the dark haired man said. "I am afraid this is your end." Though Salazar's voice was cold and held no such sympathy.

"I am your friend!" Godric cried out.

"You used to be," Salazar hissed.

"We can still be."

"You are a dying man, and I despise you."

Godric sank lower to the floor of the Astronomy tower and said no more.

The green-cloaked man did no such thing.

"Look at yourself, Godric. Look at what you must resort to!" Salazar said, pointing to the pool of blood surrounding Godric. "Self harm is for the weak and cowardly!"

Godric remained silent, his head bowed.

"Are you weak Godric?" Salazar asked, his voice growing louder. "Are you a _coward?_"

Salazar's voice echoed around the tower. Godric did not wince, to Salazar's dissatisfaction.

"Your bravery is a mask; a disguise for your weakness. You are a coward, Godric Gryffindor. I thought you were going to die tonight, but you seemed to have died long ago.

"Or perhaps you never existed," Salazar mused, his voice soft once more. "Perhaps I had befriended a coward, _perhaps, _I had befriended a lie."

Godric looked up and searched for some sort of emotion in his old friend's eyes, but found nothing. Blank.

_I used to know how to break down his wall, _Godric thought as Salazar turned and stepped down the steep stairs. _I've grown weak. _

"Salazar," Godric croaked, knowing full well these would be his last words. The sounds of Salazar's pointy black boots ceased.

"I am a coward, but you and I are not so different. You see," Godric chuckled, "I run away from the truth–you _fight _it."

Godric could feel himself drift away as blood dripped down his wrist, his pool of blood widening as the time passed. Salazar stood still; Godric could see his shadow.

"I hope you open up your mind and see past your traditions, my old friend," Godric said. "Though whatever path you choose to take, _you will be great._"

Godric closed his eyes.


	2. Duel (Part I)

**A/N: Though Harry Potter Wiki says Godric was born in the 10****th**** century, I've written this as if Godric had been born around the 1600's.**

"And another victory for Gryffindor!" a man bellowed. The crowd cheered and clapped; children jumped up and down to catch a glimpse of the great duelist from the small windows of the tavern. The winner raised his wand in the air triumphantly.

"An excellent use of _Wingardium Leviosa, _Sir," a small man said after Godric had helped his fallen opponent to his feet and walked off the platform. "One must be a very great wizard to be able to levitate something, let alone a _person!_"

"Oh, it's quite simple," Godric replied. His voice was quite deep for a 16-year-old boy. "I can teach you some time, if you want," he said casually.

The small man squealed in delight. "It would be an honour, sir!" he squeaked as he scurried away.

Girls swooned as Godric passed–he paused once or twice to sign the inside of a girl's shoe. Godric picked up a Butterbeer from Sam, the bartender, waved farewell, and hurried out the door.

"Oi!" the young duellist exclaimed as his Butterbeer spilled all over his trousers. "Watch it, mate!" He looked up to see a boy, around his age, with dark hair and grey eyes.

"I'm here to duel," the boy said.

"Well, you just missed it. Try next week." Godric took out his wand and muttered a spell under his breath. The Butterbeer disappeared from his clothes.

"I came all the way from Scotland for this."

"What the bloody hell did you do that for?"

"I'm here to duel," the boy repeated.

"Fine, come on, I'll duel you," Godric said exasperatedly. He grabbed the sleeve of the boy and pulled him into the tavern.

"Hey, show's not over, folks! One more duel today!" Godric shouted out. The crowd turned towards him and noticed the black-haired boy, everyone cheering and chanting as the pair walked forwards.

When they reached the platform, Godric asked the boy one question.

"Ever duel before?"

He shook his head.

"You don't smile much," Godric noted.

The boy didn't answer, instead walking towards the steps and on to the platform.

"First, you bow," Godric whispered. "To show you respect your opponent." Godric bowed and stood back straight soon enough to see his opponent jerk his head curtly. Godric frowned. _Who did he think he was? He was dueling the great Gryffindor! Clearly this boy did not know whom he was up against._

"And then…we begin!"


	3. Duel (Part II)

Colourful spells came from both opponents, each defending and offending. Godric attempted to disarm the boy, but he shouted, "Protego!" and sent a blasting charm Godric's way. Godric ducked, causing bottles of Firewhiskey on the shelf behind him to explode.

"Serpensortia!" Godric's opponent shouted, and a giant snake appeared. It weaved through Godric's legs.

Suddenly, the boy was speaking another language; _snake _language. He hissed and whispered like a snake, his tongue flicking up and down. The snake began to weave itself between Godric's legs, tighter and tighter until the duellist could stand no more.

The crowd gasped in surprise and a man shouted out, "Gryffindor's first loss!" No one noticed the new winner escape the tavern except for Godric, who managed to get rid of the snake.

"Blimey, what kind of magic was that?" Godric shouted. He ran after the boy.

"Wait, you mean, you never saw anything like that before?"

Godric shook his head. He could hear the boy's Scottish accent now, after hearing him speak a full sentence for the first time since he's met him.

The boy shrugged and started to walk away.

"You are a good duellist!" Godric blurted out.

The boy turned, the corners of his lips turned slightly upwards. "Thank you."

"What's your name?" Godric asked.

"Slytherin. Salazar Slytherin," the boy answered. He kept on walking. "You are not bad yourself," he said when Godric managed to catch up to him.

"Where did you learn?"

"Father. And you?"

"Same."

The two duellists kept walking.

"Are you planning on walking to Scotland?" Godric asked, joking.

Salazar frowned. "No, I am staying at the Inn three blocks from here."

"Oh, so you will be dueling again next week?"

"Perhaps."

"You are awfully serious for your age."

"You are awfully immature for your age."

Godric grinned. "You are funny!"

"I don't understand," Salazar said. He looked truly confused.

"Why are you in England?" Godric asked, changing the subject. Humor was not his new friend's cup of tea.

"To duel, like I said before."

"Come all this way to duel?"

"It is not that far."

"Far for me. I don't have a carriage. I suppose you are one of those rich people then."

Salazar remained silent.

"Got any siblings?"

"No."

"Lucky! I have three sisters and two brothers."

"I must go," Salazar said as they rounded the corner. "Goodbye."

Godric grinned. "Farewell Salazar! We'll meet again soon!"


	4. Foolishly Brave (Part I)

"He's back! He's back! The Terror–he's killed a whole family this time!"

Salazar looked out the window of his bedroom to see a boy no older than 14 shout out to the people walking down the street. Just a few houses down, a girl about the same age was shouting things, too.

They were called Nuisances, according to his father.

"Robbed 'em, too," the girl piped. People started to crowd around her, asking questions.

_Hardly anything to ask, _Salazar thought sourly. _It's not the first time._

The Terror was a Muggle known to slit throats of witches and wizards in their sleep, and placing a small figurine of a dragon near the bleeding bodies. One night, The Terror had murdered Salazar's mother.

Salazar's father became bitter and vengeful after his wife had died. Only three months ago, after years of searching, Aloysius Slytherin had found a job as Bartender at a Tavern in Colchester, announcing gleefully, "We're moving to England!" the moment his son woke up. He had been smiling for the first time in years.

It had taken a month to move from Edinburgh to Colchester, but it had been the best month of Salazar's entire life. Never had the boy seen his father so happy.

"Did he slit their throats again?"

"Was it the Smiths?"

"Oh, the poor boy!"

"And his sister!"

_Shut up. _

Salazar closed his window, and the voices ceased. His empty room fell silent.

He was reminded of when he had been smothered with affection and hugs and kisses, the day after his Mother had died. He had hated it. No–he had_disliked _it.

Because there was only one thing he hated.

He hated the Terror.

Hated him with all his heart.

Oh. And he also hated Muggles.

You see, little did the Terror know that Salazar's mother was hardly magical at all. In fact, there was a scarce amount of wizards, now, with all the Wizarding Academies burnt down by Muggles before him. The Wizarding Community had magical blood in their veins from their ancestors, but had no way of using their abilities. Almost everyone was a Squib–everyone, except Salazar.

He had learned from snakes. Seeing as there were hardly anymore witches or wizards, he had learned to speak to them, and had learned to understand them. They were his only friends.

Until a boy named Godric knocked on his door.


	5. Foolishly Brave (Part II)

"Hello."

The dark haired boy looked up at the tall, red-haired boy. He deduced that he was about 11–the same age as him–and far too happy, considering the fact that the Terror had struck once again.

"Who are you?" Salazar asked with squinted eyes.

"Godric. I live next door."

"Why are you here?"

"Well, you're the new kid in town and there are all sorts of rumors about you. Thought I would go see if any of them were true."

Salazar took no interest in the rumors. "That's awfully foolish of you," he said matter-of-factly.

"That's awfully _brave_," Godric corrected. Salazar shrugged. They seemed like the same thing to him.

"What's your name?" the tall boy asked.

"Salazar," Salazar answered. "Salazar Slytherin."

"Strange. I'm Gryffindor. Godric Gryffindor."

"Your name is stranger than mine," Salazar retorted.

Godric smiled smugly. "It's not _strange, _it's _majestic."_

Salazar fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Want to be my friend?" Godric asked. Salazar decided that this boy was very straight-forward.

"Not really." Salazar could be honest, too.

"I'm real smart."

"Doubt it."

"I'm a good fighter."

"I'm better."

"You sure you don't want to be my friend?"

"I am certain."

Godric smirked. "Too bad."

:-:

"Are you a wizard?"

Salazar hesitated. His father had told him not to tell anyone of his magical abilities. Wizards have boasted in the past, and had been killed in jealousy.

Godric noticed Salazar's hesitation. "Don't worry," he whispered, his voice low. "I won't tell a soul."

Though Salazar didn't know why, he decided to trust the arrogant boy. "Yes," he said softly. "I am."

Godric grinned. "Bet I'm better."

Salazar was taken aback. Had he finally met another wizard, another one like _him?_

Though the young boy didn't like being proved wrong, at the moment he did not care one bit.

"Prove it."

The redhead smirked and pulled out a stick from inside his pants pocket. "Lumos!" The tip of his wand glowed a soft white. Salazar watched in amazement.

"Nox." The light went out.

"Can you teach me?" Salazar asked timidly. He lost his mature façade, now curious and interested.

"Sure. As long as you teach me some things, too. Deal?" He stuck out a hand.

"Deal." Salazar said firmly, mature again. As he shook Godric's large hand, he decided that he might grow to like this boy, even if he _was_ a pompous idiot.


End file.
